I am paralyzed between infinities. At every moment there are unnamed hordes: Words. Actions. Thoughts. Emotions. Each entirely my own — but I have only one life, only one choice. Part of me laughs. Another is passionate, another cold, analytical, clinging to the edge of objectivity. But the strongest desire in me wants life to be vibrant and intense and dramatic — yet all the more whimsical and delightful for that — a story that thrills in living and in the telling, where laughter is deep and true.

This is the answer; there is no question. But still I am paralyzed. Why? I don't fear the opinions of others. It is still somehow failure that I fear. Alone I cannot fail, because what I want is who I am. But with others it is different. I can be the strange and eccentric one running through the park. Dreaming alone, awestruck alone. It is enough to go on with. I can laugh with those who laugh fondly at me. There is only a little ache in a corner of my heart; I don't want to feel, alone. I want to see with another. Make them see, if they do not — how much wonder there is to the world.

There is another reason — an intensity which demands another. But again I am afraid. I am afraid to expose the extent of my joy, passion, love — the inexpressible — and look up, looking for the same, to find uncomprehending eyes.